


Rest

by kristsune



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mischief just wants Killer to take care of himself, but also hilarious, rabble just wants to snuggle, ruckus is ridiculous, so he helps in anyway he can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:25:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8899228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/pseuds/kristsune
Summary: Mischief takes notice of his lavender haired medic, and just wants him to take care of himself, even if Mischief has to give him a pull in the right direction.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starofwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/gifts).



> Just a little thing about the meeting of Mischief and Killer. Inspired by a conversation with [Jesse](http://thebisexualmandalorian.tumblr.com/). Actually makes a good prequel piece to the one they wrote, which could be read [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8477893) (which I definitely recommend).  
> Killer belongs to Jesse!

Mischief took a deep breath and tried not to wince. He just saw Rabble and Ruckus walk into the medbay and beeline straight for him. He hated being hurt, mostly because he hated how much his brothers worried for him. Yeah, a blaster wound to the side sucks, but it wasn’t _that_ serious. 

He wished that if happened at all, that it had happened when they were with the 212th, because at least Loudmouth had the ability to keep Rabble calm, which in turn, kept Ruckus calm. When the two of them were left to worry they created a feedback loop of concern. Mischief hated that he caused his brothers that kind of stress. 

Just before Rabble reached him a lavender haired medic cut him off. Mischief’s hackles rose instantly. Anyone cutting him off from his brothers caused immediate dislike. Mischief tried to sit up but hissed as he pulled the wound in his side. 

Which is when Mischief actually heard what the medic was softly telling Rabble, “Hey, listen to me okay,” he put a gentle hand on Rabble’s shoulder, “Your brother is going to be okay. It’s not life threatening, but I still need to work on him. I need to make him better, okay? You both are exhausted, go to the freshers, get some food, and some rest. He’ll be able to have visitors for short periods by that time.”

The tension in Rabble’s shoulders bled out while the medic was talking, but he still looked over at Mischief for affirmation. Mischief made the sign for ‘okay’ with a small nod to make the point clear. Mischief thought he saw the medic check over his shoulder at him, but he couldn’t quite be sure.

Mischief was officially impressed when both Rabble and Ruckus gave Mischief a look before they turned to get some rest. They probably wouldn’t get to food until later. Neither of them could eat just after a battle.

The medic finally turned toward him and signed *Name?*

Mischief wouldn’t be surprised if his eyebrows were in his hairline. Not many brothers new how to sign outside of what was needed on the battlefield. 

*Mischief. You?*

*I’m your medic, but you can call me Killer.*

Mischief smiled at the name, always one to appreciate good irony.

*Can you hear?*

Mischief nodded.

“Okay good, I need to use my hands to check on your wound and it will make things a bit easier. I always wished there was a signing shorthand. Besides what’s used on the field that is.”

Mischief hissed as Killer poked at the wound. “Yeah, this isn’t too bad, no vitals hit. Just a flesh wound, if a deep one. Some bacta, and rest for a few days and you’ll be fine.”

While Killer was gently checking for any other wounds, Mischief took the time to get a good look at him. Besides his most striking feature, the long lavender colored hair, he mostly looked _tired_. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked a bit too thin, like he forgot to take the time to eat. He just gave off that aura of exhausted while standing. Mischief should know, he had seen it enough times when looking in a mirror. 

So while Mischief was stuck in the medbay, he watched Killer. He watched him as he cared for other brothers, how he would refer to the patients charts rather than talk to them, how he would brush his hair back, even when it was already tied. He watched as Kix cornered him to scold him about something. 

Killer would leave for a short while after the scoldings. About the amount of time it took to clean up in the freshers and maybe grab something quick in the mess. Killer would always come back in a different entrance and do a pretty good job of avoiding Kix until he left. Then Killer would go back to rounds, making sure everyone was as comfortable as they could be, getting the appropriate care.

Killer also seemed to avoid any eye contact whatsoever. But his hands were kind, and Mischief could sense that he was a good brother, and was determined to make sure he was cared for as he so obviously cared for others.

Mischief never saw him take time for _himself_. He never saw Killer rest. He wanted to change to that.

\-------

Killer noticed the large, quiet ARC watching him, but he assumed it was just boredom. Killer still wasn’t allowing his two brothers to stay with him for any length of time. 

Speaking of, there was an oddly suspicious blanket covered lump in what was supposed to be an empty bed next to Mischief’s. And Mischief himself looked more relaxed and comfortable than he normally did when he was alone. Killer started walking that way, Mischief was due for a check anyway. 

Killer sighed as he stepped up next to Mischief, “I told you, you need to rest.”

Mischief glanced down to where Rabble was curled next to him.

“He is resting.” a muffled reply from under the blankets in the next bed over, which could only be Ruckus.

“You shouldn’t be here either.” Killer pointed at the bed.

“I’m not here. Just a pile of blankets that has gained sentience.” Not Ruckus replied.

Killer sighed again as he turned to Mischief and Rabble. Apparently he had stepped too close to the bed, because before he could get another word out Mischief pulled him down onto the bed.

“What are you doing? I need to finish my shift.” Killer tried to fight, but even wounded, Mischief was _strong_.

“Rest.” Killer completely stopped at the single hoarse word. 

Killer raised himself on one elbow, “Did-did you just talk?” 

“He only does when he wants to get a point across,” Rabble spoke up sleepily from the other side of Mischief. “He’s noticed how little sleep you actually get, and you are not technically on duty at the moment.” Rabble yawned before he continued, “So stay, rest a while.”

Mischief tightened his arm around Killer, not enough that he couldn’t get up if he wanted to, but enough to know he was wanted. That he could _stay_. Not to mention he _was_ tired.

So he settled down, resting his head on Mischief’s broad chest. “Fine, but just for a little while.”

Mischief placed a light kiss on the crown of Killer’s head, who was asleep before he even pulled away.


End file.
